


Survival

by CasusFere



Series: Love is a Warm Gun [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasusFere/pseuds/CasusFere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Needlenose and Spinister, both badly wounded, try to evade capture and survive after the events of Cry Wolf!. Attempting to hammer at least a bit of Earthforce back into the general continuity. 1 hour, 15 minute flashfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival

**Author's Note:**

> tf_speedwriting prompt: Aftermath of a defeat

  
His world was static-filled agony, punctuated by the most pathetic whimpering noises that he would be mortified to admit to making - if he didn’t hurt too much to care. The vague thought that he should move, should hide or find a weapon or warn the others or _something_ flitted across his processors, but even the movement of his fuel pump sent waves of pain through his body. Getting up was out of the question.

Frag them anyway. They ignored him when he screamed for help; let them deal with Carnivac. He shied away from the immediate thought that there was a reason they hadn’t come. Frag them. Anger. Anger was good, right? Anger was supposed to give you something to focus on; that’s what they said.

He groaned out loud, a shudder running through his mangled frame. It wasn’t helping.

A door slid open, throwing the dim hallway lights on his sprawled form, face-down in slick of his own fuel and lubricants. He froze, terror making his fuel pump lurch. Was it Carnivac? Was he coming back to finish the job? A shadow fell across him, and a hand reached for his shoulder. Should he try to fight back? Play dead?

“Needlenose,” a soft voice said, so different from Carnivac’s harsh snarl, and Needlenose could have sobbed in relief. Spinister! Spinister had come back for him! Unable to force his vocalizer to work, he tried to grab his squad leader’s arm - but his hand was useless, wrist utterly crushed by Carnivac’s teeth.

“Needlenose,” Spinister said again, more insistently. “You need to get up.” He pulled at Needlenose’s arm, and the jet had to choke back a scream.

“I can’t!” he managed. “I... I can’t.”

Spinister’s response was sharp. “I can’t carry you. If you want to live, you have to move. Earthforce is here, the others are dead or captured, and we need to leave. Now. Get your aft up.”

Needlenose nodded jerkily, a shudder wracking his body, and tried to push himself up to his hands and knees, only to have his arms give out and drop him back to the ground with an agonizing crash. He must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew, his injuries had been taped to stop the fluid loss and Spinister had managed to haul him partway up to sling one of Needlenose’s arms around his shoulders. From this position, Needlenose could see the blackened metal of Spinister’s chest, a gaping, hastily-patched wound of his own.

_Spinister is hurt, and he came back anyway,_ Needlenose thought in surprise. He... wasn't sure what to think of that.

“Up, Needlenose,” Spinister said shortly, and this time Needlenose could hear the tremor of pain under his words.

“Okay,” Needlenose said, strained but determined to try. Even so, Spinister had to lift most of his weight while Needlenose got his feet under him. He took a step, and very nearly passed out again.

“Stay with me,” Spinister said softly into his audio, holding him steady.

“I’m okay,” Needlenose gasped. He gritted his denta and took another step. Oh _frag_ that hurt.

They made it out the back entrance, step by agonizing step, stumbling into a rocky outcropping before slumping to the ground together just as Needlenose was certain he couldn’t take another step. Needlenose couldn’t tell who was leaning on who, and frankly at this point, he couldn’t care less.

Voices drifted to them, faint shouts and catcalling from the Autobots searching the base for the two wounded Mayhems. The door they’d exited from banged open, a large mech - he was too tired and dizzy to bother running a recognition protocol - stomping out.

Maybe it was luck, maybe it was that cloaking device that rumors said Spinister had, but the big mech passed by their hiding place without so much as a glance, striding around the corner of the building. They waited until the voices faded, until they heard rumble of the watercraft fade into the distance.

“What do we do now?” Needlenose asked, voice buzzing with static from pain and fatigue.

“Repair ourselves, find a long-range comm unit, and arrange for a pick up,” Spinister said, voice calm but rough with exhaustion. “But for now, rest.”

Rest? Resting sounded good. Needlenose sighed, slumping more into Spinister’s shoulder and letting his optics dim. Rest sounded perfect...  



End file.
